


Albion's need

by thesongofsnow



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hope, Hopeful Ending, M/M, One Shot, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:44:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesongofsnow/pseuds/thesongofsnow
Summary: OS. Arthur dies and Merlin waits. When will he be back? Kilgharrah promised.For after Camelot is destroyed, Merlin is all that remains of Albion. This is what happens when he looses hope.





	Albion's need

Arthur  
As his face was becoming more and more blurry every second, the fear to never see Merlin again was the thought that terrified me the most. I couldn’t die without him knowing how much I cared about him, or how grateful I was to have had him in my life. With the little strength I had left, I barely managed to thank him. I hoped he understood all of what I was trying to tell him. He probably did understand that I was grateful for what he did for me and Camelot, maybe also that I was grateful to have him with me, while I was dying. But he probably did not understand what a privilege it had been to have him in my life. Or how much I cared about him. Or how I did not mind that he had magic -I had been suspecting it for a long time- because I knew he was a good man, the best I ever had the honour to meet, really. I wanted to tell him all of this as I felt life leaving me but I could not. I felt my eyes closing, I heard him scream. I heard him demanding me to look at him, to stay alive. But it was too late, we both knew it. We were too late.  
He would never know.

Merlin  
When I understood he was gone, I felt as if part of me had died with him. It was my fault. It was all my fault. All I had ever done to avoid this moment had actually caused his death. I felt so stupid. How could I have ever think that I, Merlin, a nobody barely able to perform a few tricks, could fight destiny? I should have known better. I was too late. He was gone.  
I grieved for years, decades. But I guess it is what happens when you are an immortal. Time doesn’t feel the same. A year, even a decade, represents nothing. You still feel the pain everyday, the minutes do not seem to go faster. It’s just that you don’t see them in the same way you do when you are a mortal.  
In his first moral letter to Lucilius, Seneca explains that every day we die a little and that death is not to come, or something far in our future. Death is our everyday, it is behind us in the way that it already holds each day we have spent on earth. Therefore, we have to make our days count. Well, if he is right, this might explain why I don’t feel time the same way I used to, when I thought I was mortal. It is because death doesn’t hold me. I don’t feel the urge to do something, I don’t see time as a threat because I do not die a little every day.  
I’m not sure I’m making any sense.

Arthur  
I remember feeling cold. He was holding me, but I was cold, and then nothing. At all. And then cold again. But this time, it was long. Very long. Everything around me was greyish. I did not know where I was but I was not totally myself. It was almost like I was floating, except there was no water touching me. It was odd. It was lonely. I wanted to go home, but I couldn’t and it was frustrating. I wanted to see him again. His childish smile, his soft blue eyes and his dark hair. I missed him. I wanted to find him, but I couldn’t.

Merlin  
I looked for Arthur for a very long time. Of course around the lake, in the lake, on the island. But also everywhere magic, every place we had ever been to. I went to the druids and they told me the same thing as Kilgharrah, that Arthur would rise again hen Albion’s need is greatest. That did not help. I travelled the world, trying to find someone like me or holding any piece of information that might help. There was nothing, no one. So I went back to where Arthur had died, built a cabin, made it into a house, and made it bigger so I could store the books.  
I waited for him, clueless of what to do. I looked at the burning world, wars creating more wars. I fought a little, when I felt too big of an injustice for one side, but I have never been really good at it. Instead I went as a doctor, healing the wounded, looking for Arthur on battlefields because this is where he would be needed.  
However, he was never there.

Arthur  
I heard voices, many voices. Screaming, calling, praying voices. I wanted to help them but I was not able to move. It was like I had died, blacked out and finally woke up into this cold bubble. But I was trapped in it.  
I tried to hear his voice and it took a while but I eventually managed to tune the other voices down. It is the only thing I controlled. I heard him talk to me. Sometimes he did that a lot, but other times he got mad at me for not answering and stopped talking for a while. But he always came back.  
I wished I could do the same.

Merlin  
The first years after his death, I called him, begged him to return. I talked to him. We talked about him a lot in Camelot -never saying his name, though- but when Gwen and Gaïus and the knights and everyone that had ever cared about him had died, I had no one to share the pain with. I did keep talking to him, but it was not the same.  
And one day, I said his name again. It was a mistake. I was in the street when I saw a tall blond man, and for a second, I thought it was him. So I called him. But it was someone else. Saying his name was physically painful. The pain caused by his absence stroke me harder than it had in decades. Maybe even since that wretched day.  
So I went to the lake, because I needed to be where he last was.

Arthur  
One day he said my name. I felt the urge in his voice. Like he needed me to be there. And it did something to the damn bubble. I was moving. And soon I saw a shaft of sunlight. And the sky. And the grass.  
I was moving towards the shore.

Merlin  
He would never come back. It had been so long. Kilgharrah had been wrong, the druids too.  
He would never be back.

Arthur  
And then I was on the shore. I heard crying so I turned my head to see someone huddled up against a stump.  
As I moved forward, I knew without a doubt that it was him. Merlin. With a beard, his hair longer and all curly and wearing strange clothes, but still, him.

Merlin  
I felt a hand on my shoulder. And I heard a voice calling my name. A voice I was sure to never hear again.  
It was his voice. I looked up and there he was, like an angel, the sun shining right above his head. He was smiling. I thought I was dreaming, but then I realised that it was long past the time I would dream about him coming back.  
I started to cry. He lost his smile. It was so sad.  
“Are you okay? Merlin don’t cry, please. Whatever it is, I can fix it.”  
So I smiled. He looked confused but smiled back.  
“You already have. You are here.”  
I got on my feet and hugged him.  
He hugged back.  
He was here.  
He had come back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read!  
> English is not my first language so I apologise in advance for my grammar or other potential mistakes.  
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed this one shot.  
> Also feedback is always appreciated so don't hesistate to comment.  
> Hope you're having a nice day!


End file.
